Aftermath
by fugacior
Summary: It was 1967, as they encounter the people who once and forever they have lost. [1960s AU; gift fic for crystallized cherry]


Because sometimes we encounter dead people in the most inconvenient moment possible.

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**Aftermath**

**Kuroko no Basket © Fujimaki Tadatoshi**

_no profit is gained in the making of this writing work_

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As she tuned to the radio which played Nina Simone's version of _I Put a Spell on You_, Momoi Satsuki swept the curtain off the window whilst gazed at the city's view replete with lights as the moon shone from the night sky.

It was 1967 and she was lonely. A company would be an adequate amount of happiness, but she had waited enough. Three years and she hadn't received any blissful news—stress ensued, tears flew, and she often caught herself stifling and coughing in the end. The sixteenth night of September approached, she said to herself as she counted the days and hoped for a miracle, but nothing happened. She sighed woefully as she laid herself on the couch, staring at the picture of her lover who had left her for long. She had been dreaming of him once returned—nevertheless, it would have been impossible. To this date, she never again believed the existence of love, as she entwined to her feelings which made her withdrawn from opportunities to search for warmth in life.

He was a decent man—that was how she often told everyone at the start of her story about him. He was a kind and brave soul, a generous and honest person, and someone who would likely to sacrifice for the sake of someone else's worth. He was far from famous, though people would have known him from his kindness despite not expecting his sudden appearance which 'came out of nowhere'. In accordance to the meaning of his last name, Kuroko Tetsuya was a shadow, or so he preferred to refer himself. People asked him about his pride and dignity of being assimilated to an obscure object of dark, to which he explained to them, "As a shadow, I grow stronger with the light that accompanies me. If the light is strong, then I become stronger too. My job is to essentially support the light, thus giving a chance to support myself as well. There aren't many people who go with this principle of life, but I decided to go along with the path, since I was destined to be and this is an omen, as I perceive it that way."

Then, he met Momoi. Both of them agreed that the mobilization of the students' social wave of protest would have had loose effect of change—she was never against the liberal, as well as Kuroko who spent most of his time discovering the unorthodox minds behind literary works. One time, he asked her if she had read George Orwell's _Nineteen-Eighty Four_, to which she shook her head in response and said, "I have no interest in reading such conspiracy-themed works." She cited some of her favorites, such as Vladimir Nabokov's _Lolita_ and Margaret Mitchell's _Gone with the Wind_. Another time she asked him if he had smoked before—his answer was an adamant 'no', as he added that smoking was not a part of his lifestyle which he would likely to adapt. She understood this, though at that time she was unable to restrain herself from taking three or four Lucky Strikes a day. Surprisingly, he didn't try to stop her—he told her that he had no rights to forbid someone about having choices in their life. She couldn't help but laugh hearing that.

There came a moment where she finally understood how humans are social beings and attached to their feelings. She thought she could bear to live on her own, until one day she met Kise Ryouta. He was introduced to her by the time she gained an opportunity to volunteer at a sanatorium not more than a year ago. As curiosity dragged her down, she asked why would a good-looking man would spend his time at a place so secluded. He chuckled it off, saying, "I was sent here as a blessing after the events happened at my past."

Kise then began to explain to her the said events. Before being admitted as a patient, he was a famous model working overseas. He was at the peak of his career, his status was renowned, and he, by far, enjoyed it. His behavior was somewhat influenced from his model friends from outside Japan, especially to those who came from Europe. Since he spent his time hanging out with high-class people and such, an alteration from inside of him occurred. He became a person who he didn't really want to be, but he didn't seem to notice. Soon, he could not spend the day without having at least five shots of alcohol a day. One day, someone came across him and thought of him as 'the one'.

"But then again, I was too busy mingling with pretty girls who happened to be hypocritical bitches covered in glitters," he continued. "She was actually pretty nice and kind of good-looking. I was the one being horrible, you know, assuming that she would get over me by drinks and a one-night stand, but she refused. I was shocked and appalled, so then being a drunken douchebag as I was, I yelled brashly at her what was her problem and told her to get out of my face. I was glad I didn't get to see her crying, though. And that wasn't even Paris."

"What about Paris?" asked the peach pink-haired girl, as Kise sighed and his expression grew sadder to the question.

"Paris was a lovely nightmare."

Being a celebrity had given Kise hard times to maintain his public image, but there would be a time when his world shattered. "I took a modelling job and a chance for a runway walk in France," the blond added. "For reasons, I avoided chariots, but it couldn't get any worse—horse rides were enough to make me disgorge all of my gut's contents out by morning, like a horrible hangover after a Topsy Turvy frenzy. Well, of course, as rebellious and addicted as I could be, I kept drinking anyway despite having people telling me to go to rehab. Then, I was at this bar when I met this fairly self-indulgent young woman who was around the same age as my eldest sister. She happened to be one of the most amazing women I had ever met, according to my judgement as my mind was influenced with alcohol. As a model, I knew that women often took interest in my looks, but she was out of any boundary possible, and I honestly thought it was awesome when she tried to hit on me."

He then told Momoi about his involvement as a party in the girl's sex contract (an attempt of her exploration post-divorce), which some of the rules and notes included 'high level amount of drugs' and 'may cause damage in health; physically, mentally, or spiritually', though some hinted that it could be parlayed into a beneficial business-relationship. "I was doing this just for fun, anyway, so I signed the contract. She was bewildered since no guy had ever wanted to continue having casual affairs with her once they read the contract," he stated with a vague sour smile. "At first, it was challenging. She was pricky and very hard to please, as I relentlessly trying to figure out how to satisfy every inch of her body and give her the ultimate pleasure. Every time our meetings concluded, I asked her how she felt. She replied that she was 'bored, cold, or dissatisfied'. I was intrigued, so I pulled out every effort that I got. I even tried to do one of her most secret fantasies, but all she gave me was an 'eh'. I gathered all my courage to be with her to give and take delight, but all I got was loathes. I was in a real life sex pickle."

Momoi pursed her lips and kept her ears open wide, as Kise went on with an irony to the tone of his voice, "I tried everything. I would break the most unconventional methods people had ever thought for, but they were futile—_zilch_. It had been going on for 40 days until she considered the contract was void, and this led me to an insufferable amount of disappointment. I was depressed, deprecated, and felt like my whole world had no significant meaning. I cried as I pathetically mourned to myself how I was such a selfish and arrogant fool, and I had never vodka as much as 26 different flavors based on alphabetically ordered variants, one shot at a time, in my life."

Losing most of his dignity, Kise found out that the girl who crushed him heartlessly was actually the sister of the girl to whom he once yelled at. He was utterly bewildered and ashamed, thus resulting him to leave the glams and glits of the entertainment world. "Luckily, I get another shot to live and not losing my kidney," Kise chirped. "Well, _almost_. Now, I'm committing to myself that I would no longer drink, have meaningless sex, or maybe being in an intimate, romantic relationship with anyone. I just really want to have a distant space from a lot of people right now. At least, in here, I found God, and this is His way telling me that I should be at the right path."

Momoi had never loved someone so dearly. She had those nights where she would find someone attractive and commenced casual sex, but all of her life was a constant line. She had never found peace before she met Kuroko, and he was one out of the people who really understood her, aside from her trust issues towards her family. She could never know how he was able to cope with her, as he was regularly living the straightest life she had ever known. He never condescended nor judged, so that made her relieved. He told her that there would be a possibility that she could have been his 'light' all along, to which she scoffed in uncertainty.

That was before 1963. One day, Kuroko took her out to a place which he described as 'where the view of the sun shades the inner image of people'. Momoi didn't really get the picture, but she came along anyway. They covered a two-hour road trip from Tokyo, then arrived at a village located uphill. Momoi was never familiar with the surroundings of nature, as she was born and spend most of her life in the hustle-bustle of the city. When they got out of the car, they sat by the hill as they watched the sunset appeared. The bluenette then told her, "This is where the shadows grow larger." She finally caught the meaning of what he had said to her about the place before.

For once in her life, Momoi discovered how beautiful the view of the nature right in front of her eyes.

She then leaned her head over to his shoulder, saying, "I might like you, Tetsu-kun." He chuckled lightly, replying, "Me too, Momoi-san." Both then gazed at each other's orbs as the sun went down and the sky grew darker. Before the stars appeared, she closed her eyes as he brushed her hair to the side and planted a chaste kiss upon her lips. It wasn't too short, nor too long; it was perfect. When he let go, she was overwhelmed. It was as if she had experienced the most flattering thing, despite not being her first kiss. She felt young and pure again.

But it didn't stop right there.

"Momoi-san, will you let me be your shadow for the rest of your life?"

Momoi's breath hitched. Kuroko remained silent, waiting for her to react. Her tongue was numb and her mind began to pause and playback the moments she had with him. All of which were significantly better than her days of despair; without a doubt, she could perceive a spark of congeniality between her and him. She regretted nothing being with him, but she still didn't know if they could able to make their relationship work. Then again, she asked herself why Kuroko even wanted to be with her—she wasn't a goody two shoes nor a ladylike person. She occasionally smoked while dressing up in front of the mirror for two hours minimum and her cooking was a mere disgrace. Who would want to be with her and having her as the perfect wife?

She recalled the words which Kise once said to her before she left the sanatorium.

"You need to find love, Momocchi," he told her. "The world means nothing without love. I may haven't loved someone ever since I came here, but it would take a lot of time for me to regain what I've lost even if someone out there loves me. Don't retract yourself from it, especially if it's coming from someone you hold so dear."

In the end, she did as what Kise advised—she agreed. Kuroko couldn't be more happy himself before he leaned over to kiss her again. This time, the stars began to shine brightly as the night arrived.

* * *

"Happy birthday, me."

Aomine Daiki congratulated himself in the middle of the night when the clock struck twelve. It had been four years since he turned twenty, and he didn't enjoy it as much as back when he were younger. Born in the period of World War II's turbulance had given him somewhat of a hazy memory. He had lived quite nomadic, moving from one place to another as an effect of the war. His father was among the men who sacrificed their lives for the country—he died when he was around three months old. He didn't acknowledge much about his father besides from what he saw through the old photos his mother showed him. She took care of him as he grew before she passed away when it was two days away from him being twenty due to heart failure.

There were other reasons why he never liked the year 1963.

He had a feud with a certain close acquaintance named Kagami Taiga, who decided to leave him for seeking chances in the States. To make matters worse, he told him when he wanted to take him out for a drink as the chance for him to spend a great time at Kagami's birthday. It brought him a bountiful amount of dismay, resulting him to ruin a random bar after he fought him and leaving bruises and aches all over his body. When he came home, he seized the refrigerator to look for some Bourbon as he was unable to stay sober for the next dozen of hours. In the next day, the redhead was never seen in front of him anymore. He wondered why he was friends with him, muttering and cursing to himself that their friendship was a mere bullshit all along.

One month had been going and he was practically returned to his usual self, before momentarily having his attention caught over a random news, which appeared to be covering a suicidal case. The day after Martin Luther King delivered his widely recognized _I Have a Dream_ speech, a man was shot to death near a train station at Atlanta, Georgia. He was of Asian native, presumed to be at around his early twenties. The bullet struck from underneath his chin as it pierced right through his brain and encountered a great amount of blood loss. There was no possibility of his live being saved, even after the ambulance came. According to the police, the reason behind the man's death was of suicide, not murder.

It didn't take long for Aomine to realize that it was his friend who shot himself to death that day.

He didn't mourn for the loss of his mother and Kagami for the past 48 hours. He didn't think of the day as him turning older as the years passed either. He didn't commemorate anything. Aomine decided not to—a lot of unfortunate and fortunate events came and went. He never minded them, not even Christmas. He found that there was no point in celebrating anything. So what if he turned twenty, thirty, or even fifty; it wasn't as if a miracle would happen out of nowhere, right?

At least that was what he thought for the rest of his life.

He took one stick out of his cigarette box and turned on the lighter. As he puffed the smoke out from his mouth, he began to contemplate how his life will turn out. He stayed alive when people around him died every time, every minute, one life at a time. He had lost several important people of his life, thus creating at atmosphere of emptiness, secluding him in a large gap from others. He wasn't a man who could easily trust someone, resulting an increase of the distance between him and people in general. In addition, his view was skeptic towards any forms of affection, as he stated that he survived the last four years without having someone to actually care for him.

Aomine remembered how his mother used to listen to Judy Garland's _Dear Mr. Gable_ as the gramophone played the record, tuning to the same song. She, alike to all teenagers, was fascinated by a handsome figure on her mind—the difference was the person she imagined was out of reality. She had no concrete image of the person she adored, such as Frank Sinatra or Laurence Olivier, as she told her son, "It's hard to look for the guy that I've been dreaming of. You know, all the girls out there, they're dreaming to be with the same person, the same people. The ones we usually see on the screen, or we listen to them singing at the radio. That's not my kind of thing. I look for someone particular indeed, a man who knows how to treat his woman well. A gentleman, as I'd like to refer it. I don't care if he weren't famous, as his legacy will always remain true to our family—that's what I think of as important."

Several years later, he realized that the person his mother told him about later revealed to be his father.

When _Dear Mr. Gable_ ended, Aomine just finished smoking his second stick. He then stumbled to the cupboard, but he found out that it was empty. He grumbled to himself and slammed the cupboard door, creating a loud breaking sound. His mouth started to feel dry, as he turned the sink on and grabbed a glass to have some water. His eyes felt weary and hot—he rubbed his hand against it, but it had no effect. He slouched himself at the couch and closed his eyes tight, persuading his mind to calm down even though his heartbeat went rapid more than usual.

Despite knowing that it wasn't an ordinary cigarette, the addiction would never cease from inside of him.

* * *

A week later, Aomine dreamed of having kaleidoscopic images swirling around his head.

He recalled colors—all of which surged into a fountain, creating circles and spirals, variegated and fantasy-like. It lasted for God knows how long, until the perplexing sequences blurried and changed into the scenery of the bar where he and Kagami had a fight. There was no one but Kagami, looking awful as ever. He approached the redhead, trying to talk to him but not a word came out from his mouth. His voice was unheard, although he could hear the redhead sobbing painfully. Then, Kagami finally noticed him and the first sentence which he said was,

"You're finally here."

Aomine, looking at him impalpably, thought that he was the one who should responded that. Before he gestured a sign of his confusion over the situation, Kagami continued as he coughed and sniffled, "You have finally arrived. I have waited a painful load of four years just to wait for you here. I thought you would never come, Ahomine."

_What the hell is he talking about?_

"I have a lot to tell you."

Although reluctant at first, Aomine decided to sit beside him. Kagami sighed heavily, then he started off, "It has been four years since I died. Yeah, I know, it was unpleasant. Don't get me wrong, I'm not here to bring up how a bullet nested in my head after I shot it from underneath my chin. The point is, you might be wondering why you found me here being sappy and all. Well, I was conflicted a lot by my feelings over what happened to us in the past, that's for sure."

He brushed his hair to the side exasperatedly, explaining, "So, anyway, I died. My soul was taken away from my body, but I wasn't going anywhere yet. I met this old man called 'The Gatekeeper'. He was angel of justice, some would say. He told me that I couldn't go through the final destination if I hadn't done resolutions of the conflicts I had made when I was alive towards the living humans on earth. He also told me that the only way I could communicate through a living person is through a dream triggered by substances which cause afflictions. So there you have it—a ticket express to the imaginary underworld created by the dead."

Even though he couldn't fully understand what the redhead said to him, at least he figured out the reason why he was there. For some reason, he was under the control of a drug, which carried out hallucinations of his dead friend telling him that they should settle their problems before he was awakaned. He didn't know whether he should believe or not—at least he knew that he was at a part of his subconscious.

"At this state, you're supposed to have what people called as a psychedelic feeling," Kagami added. "Before you saw me, did you encounter a lot of swirling fantasy-like colors?"

Aomine nodded quietly, to which the redhead pursed his lips and tilted his head closely. "That's what I'm talking about," he said. "Before you mistake me for a ghost or anything which tries to ruin your life, I want to tell you that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for being the biggest ass even though it was my birthday and then fucking up your birthday in the end. I was brought to the States not because I wanted to seek chances—I barely had no chance being there. My dad, being a persistent bastard as he was, decided to take me back under his wing after he left me here in Japan. I refused, and you know what happened next. That's why I was telling you for the good reasons without letting you know about what had happened between me and my dad, and that was my fatal mistake. I was consumed with guilt, and bang, there goes the bullet."

It was a weird way knowing the story behind your friend's death, Aomine said to his mind. He recalled the last four years of how much he blamed himself over Kagami's death, as his mind had been telling him that it was his fault for not being able to stop him from leaving Japan and killing himself. The bluenette bit his lip hard enough until he could feel a sip of blood running through the side of his mouth. His shoulders trembled as the emotions which he had kept hidden piled up. He shook his head several times, whispering to himself, "This is not real. This is not happening."

In the end, he couldn't help but wept and he hated it so much.

Kagami had never seen Aomine so vulnerable. He curled his arm upon his shoulder and brought him closer as he comforted him, "You idiot, I'm the one that's supposed to be crying. You're always being the one who acts out so strong, telling me that I'm such an emotional bastard. Moreover, it's not your fault that I'm dead. You should be happy as hell, man—you're _still_ alive."

Even though Kagami said so, tears also streamed from his eyes as they both sobbed throughout the night.

* * *

"What was his name again?"

"Kuroko Tetsuya."

"How did he die?"

"At a sanatorium, suffered tuberculosis."

"That's awful. Then again, he was such an amiable guy, like you said?"

"You should have met him when he was still alive."

One day, Aomine met a young woman named Momoi. After having a peculiar dream which led him to believe how death supposedly works in affecting someone's life, he overheard a story about a girl who met her lover through sequences of her memory inside a dream. Curious, he looked up through a series of acquaintances and finally got her name and address. He asked her to meet him to talk about it—soon after, they commenced regular meetings twice a week.

"I met him at the sixteenth night of September, which was exactly two months ago," she said. "It was the day when he took me to the Shadow Hill four years ago. I had only been knowing him for three years—seven if you count to this date—but he had given me so much to offer. I was fearless and thrill was all that I aimed for, then he came into my life and made me change my perspectives. Because of him, I quitted smoking since three years ago, despite not forbidding me having up to four sticks a day before he confessed."

"Wow, seems like you have taken the right influence," Aomine commented, to which Momoi chuckled lightly. She kept going on. "I still remember what he said to me. He didn't tell me about how he died, he told me about the things that I should keep on remembering as I move on with life. He said to me that I shouldn't retract from love and there is no point in entwining my feelings for him. Also he was glad knowing that I was still alive to this date, as he would have appreciated me more for not going after him to the underworld."

_Just like what Kise-kun had said to me._

Silence stretched between them for awhile. It had been the third week after the first time they met, but none had inquired each other the trigger of those kind of dreams. They knew, but they didn't want to know, and especially not wanting to know two strangers who happened to see each other a lot because they experienced a dream over meeting someone dead to resolve a conflict which was supposed to end. It was only last year before the States banned LSD, followed by other countries, but they chose to be defiant. Besides, they had heard a lot of people using it nowadays, including artists in order to enhance their creativity.

"That's good," Aomine said. "Y'know, it has been, like, five or six times we have met, but we've never actually gotten to know each other. We just keep going on and on about these dreams as if they would live on."

"You're right. I think we should let go of them, although not completely... for now," she responded. "Can you help me out with that?"

He nodded, showing a hint of his earnest. She laughed as they walked down the streets towards somewhere pleasant with a nice view. But most importantly, Aomine and Momoi had each other as companies, at least starting from that day. They still had a lot of time in getting to know one another, as the end of their lives was still far ahead of them.

"I was wondering... can I call you Dai-chan?"

"We barely even know each other, why would you want to call me that?"

"I don't know, it seems quite fitting. But if you really mind, though, I'm fine calling you Aomine-kun."

"In return, I would like to call you by your first name. It feels awkward mentioning your last name."

"Look who's talking!"

In the end, they never experienced those dreams anymore.

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"_Hey, do you think we get to see each other after one of us died, like what happened with us back in 1967?_"

"_Probably. But I would be looking forward to see each other after we have reached the final destination._"

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**fin.**

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**A/N:** Partially inspired by Norwegian Wood, although I looked up for some various references, so forgive me for any mistakes made above ;;;

A belated birthday gift written especially for Nisa Kazuka! Thank you for all the joy and passion you have shared towards hetero pairings :) Have a blast!

(moved the fic from ao3 due to several reasons)


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